


Near-Death Experiences, Life-Saving, and Confessions--In That Order

by OpalizedBone



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Sappy, Slow Burn, i love them, pharah saves mercy's life, slight slow burn, they're both big gay dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-08 21:11:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13466622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedBone/pseuds/OpalizedBone
Summary: Angela is severely injured in a fight, and Fareeha is the one to rescue her. Could this be the catalyst for their relationship to finally begin?ORFareeha saves Angela's life and the two dorks finally kiss because 'oh shit i could really lose her one day'EDITED: 6/30/18 to include Fareeha finding Angela and her reaction





	1. Trickery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have all the chapters finished and I'll post one a day until it's done! but there's only three bc i'm an impatient motherfucker who can't write slow burn lmao

The sound of bullets filled the hot air as Mercy ran for cover after Tracer, the glowing beam of her staff connecting the two. They slipped into a darkened room and paused, each catching their breath.

“Thanks, love,” Tracer gasped, fiddling with her accelerator. With a soft beep, the blue glow resumed. “All charged up. Stay safe out there, yeah?”

“You as well,” Mercy returned, bent over with her hands on her knees. This mission was quickly becoming one of their trickier ones, and she found herself being pulled in all directions as she kept her team alive.

Tracer took a last deep breath and made her way back into the open, firing her twin pistols as she resumed fighting for the payload. Mercy heard a thud as someone’s body hit the hard-packed dirt, and the tell-tale sound of Tracer blinking away.

“Mercy!” McCree’s voice sounded in her earpiece, “We need healing!”

“I am coming,” Mercy replied, getting a better grip on her staff. She peeked out into the open.

A block ahead, she saw a Talon agent run around the corner; the coast was clear. She slipped from her cover, running towards the location her wrist monitor showed. She could hear fighting, seemingly all around her, and her breathing picked up again. Junkertown had so many metal buildings that sounds constantly echoed and reverberated, confusing the listener as to where they were coming from. It made fighting dangerous, unable to listen for someone sneaking up on you, and her ears rang with it all.

Continuously glancing at her locator, she followed the blinking dots, the echoing gunfire making it impossible to realize she was leaving the fight.

“Mercy, where are you?” D.Va asked, her earpiece ringing with gunfire.

“Almost to Pharah,” Mercy replied, gasping for breath as she rounded a corner--and stopped dead. Pharah should be right here, she was sure of it--looking down, she watched as the dots on her locator blinked twice more, before the screen flashed static and they relocated to nearly a mile away from her location.

“Mercy!” Tracer called. “C’mon, we need you!”

“I don’t understand--my locator said--” Mercy’s chest was heaving as she stared uncomprehendingly at the dots on her device.

Cursing, she whirled around and started running to the new location. She ran down an alley and was about to emerge when a flash of movement in front of her sent her bolting for cover in another burned-out building. She ducked into a darkened room, her hand flying to her blaster. A low laugh sounded, frighteningly near, and she levelled her blaster towards it, heart pounding.

“You know, it isn’t a good idea to get separated from your team, chica.” It was Sombra. Mercy’s gut clenched when she realized that Sombra must have hacked her device, lead her away from the fight and her teammates. McCree, D.Va, Tracer, Soldier: 76, Pharah--they were all too far away to help, and she was on her own.

Unsure if Sombra knew where she was, Mercy tried to quiet her breaths, too scared of being discovered to even whisper a cry for help to her teammates--even if she did, it would be too late for them to get here.

“Don’t worry, cariño,” Sombra crooned; her voice was closer now, “I’ll find you.”

Mercy could feel herself beginning to panic. She’d never been separated from her teammates like this, pinned down by the enemy and unable to fly to safety. She looked around, trying to find an exit. It was dark in the building, the windows boarded up, the walls crumbling; like most of Junkertown, this building was old and falling apart, the fusion core explosion years earlier having torn the city halfway apart. Bits of brick and plaster littered the floor, making moving silently nearly impossible, and the furniture was all either rotted or broken. A smell of sweat and dirt lingered in the air.

There was a door in the far corner of the room, the only other exit, and she began inching towards it, keeping her blaster aimed on the door she’d come through.

“Mercy, my locator says you’re nearly a mile away,” Soldier: 76’s voice came through her earpiece. “What are you doing?”

Mercy slowly backed toward the door, her only hope of escape, her gaze flicking around. Her heart was pounding so hard she wouldn’t be surprised if the hacker could hear it.

“She fixed me up not too long ago,” Mercy heard Tracer reply.

“I haven’t had a visual on her in nearly twenty minutes.” That was Pharah. Mercy’s heart clenched as she thought of the soldier, but she tried to ignore her team’s radio chatter as she listened intently for any trace of Sombra. She should be outside--that was where her voice had come from--but Mercy had no idea if there was another entrance into the building.

Finally, Mercy made it to the door. Opening it slowly, wincing as the hinges creaked, she slipped through. The new room had another two doors and a number of boarded-up windows, one of which let in a sliver of light through a crack in the wood. One door was open, showing another dark room, but the other one looked like it led outside. Mercy’s heart leapt; if she could get outside, she might be able to call Pharah and join her in the sky to escape.

“Do you think she’s in trouble?” D.Va’s voice was in her ear now.

“Maybe.” Pharah’s voice sounded worried, and Mercy hoped that her friend would come looking for her.

Mercy was just passing the other door when a flash of purple caught her eye. She froze.

“Hola, chica.”

Mercy gasped, whirling around and leveling her blaster at Sombra, who had appeared in the dark doorway, pistol aimed at Mercy’s chest. The two stared at each other, Mercy’s chest heaving as she took panicked gasps.

“Seems like we’re in a bit of a stalemate, hm?” Sombra grinned at her, eyes twinkling. Mercy tried her hardest to not look frightened, glaring at the Talon agent. Her finger tightened on the trigger of her blaster, and she saw Sombra’s do the same.

“Sombra,” Mercy narrowed her eyes, cheeks flushed with exertion. The hacker looked relaxed, comfortable even, while Mercy was sweaty and still recovering her breath.

“Angela Ziegler,” Sombra returned, flaunting her knowledge of Mercy’s real name, likely gained from hacking into an Overwatch computer. “I’ve never seen you so far from your teammates, muñeca.”

“You’re far from yours as well,” Mercy pointed out, and Sombra grinned.

“Am I? You never know who’s hiding on a rooftop, watching my back.” Mercy’s blood ran cold; if Widowmaker was perched on a roof...she didn’t want to think about that. She knew the sniper had heat vision, and doubted something as inconsequential as a wall would stop her bullet.

“I’m surprised that girlfriend of yours isn’t here,” Sombra captured her attention again, and her brow furrowed. She didn’t have a girlfriend.

“What--?”

Sombra raised one eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised.

“Oh, don’t tell me Amari still hasn’t scooped you up yet? She’s been texting that Tracer girl for _months_ about you,” Sombra grinned again.

Mercy felt her cheeks flush and glared at Sombra, mind racing. She tried not to let Sombra distract her; one wrong move and she was dead. It wasn’t as if there was someone who could revive her if she went down.

“Mercy? Mercy, can you hear me?” Pharah’s concerned voice in her ear made her flinch, her eyes flicking away from Sombra for a fraction of a second, but that was all it took.

Sombra’s bullets hit her squarely in the stomach, sending her tumbling backwards. Her breath had been punched out of her; it didn’t yet hurt--she knew that would come in a few moments--but she couldn’t move. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to gasp for breath. Sombra leaned over her and smiled.

“Sorry, chica, nothing personal,” Sombra said, and kicked her caduceus staff out of her reach. With one last laugh, she was gone.

Mercy finally pulled in a breath, and with it, the pain kicked in. Intense, burning, blistering; it was like a punch to the gut, and she curled up on her side, gritting her teeth and clutching her stomach. Her blood was hot and slippery against her fingers, and drained frighteningly fast from her body, spreading across the dirty floor like syrup. She’d been shot before--every agent has--but never at such close range, never direct hits like this.

“Mercy?” it was Pharah over the communicator once more. “I’m going after her.”

“Make it quick,” was the reply from Soldier: 76.

“Pharah…” Mercy gasped, pressing the button on her communicator.

“Mercy! Are you alright?”

“No...Sombra, she--she shot me,” Mercy managed to get out. It was incredible how fast her consciousness was fading, how easily her concentration wavered.

“What’s your status? I’m on my way,” Pharah replied. “ETA six minutes.”

“Multiple gunshot wounds...stomach. Bleeding,” Mercy tried to keep her wits about her, tried to relate what Pharah needed to know, but it was hard, so hard. Everything felt hot and tight, and her vision was flickering.

“Mercy?” Pharah’s voice was stricken with concern bordering on panic. “Mercy? Angela! Answer me, Angela!”

“...Fareeha…” Mercy whispered, her fingers slipping through the blood on her stomach. She tried to apply pressure to her wounds, but her hands weren’t cooperating, her fingers stiff and numb.

“Angela!” Pharah’s voice sounded far away.

“Y’better hurry,” McCree said, sounding worried.

“Do whatever you can,” Soldier: 76 ordered. “We’ll join you at base as soon as we can.”

Mercy focused on breathing as their voices faded into the background, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. The only thing she could smell was her own blood, thick and salty in her throat. Her vision was continuing to dim, and fear was pushing the adrenaline out of her system, making the pain spike.

“Angela, stay with me,” she heard Pharah say. Her brain felt sluggish, her thoughts focusing on the other agent. She wished there’d been time to tell her how she felt…

~

Pharah landed heavily next to the old building her locator indicated Mercy was in. She was struggling not to panic as she ran through the door, her breathing heavy and her heart pounding. Both nearly stopped when she saw Mercy.

Angela was curled up on her side in a frighteningly large pool of blood, her suit and hair saturated in it, her staff laying across the room.

“Angela!” Pharah gasped, rushing to her side. Gently, she turned her head up, wiping blood-thick strands off her face. Her eyes were open, staring unseeingly up at Pharah’s face. 

With one hand, Pharah felt for Angela’s pulse, face tight with worry, and breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she found it beating, albeit slowly. She grabbed packets of stanching gel and gently moved Angela’s hands away from her stomach, spreading it thickly over the wounds. The gel congealed onto her skin, stopping the bleeding, and Pharah scooped her up, grabbing her staff as she went.

Angela slumped lifeless in Pharah’s arms as she left the building and rocketed skyward.

“I’ve got her,” Pharah informed her team over her communicator.

“How’s she look?” Tracer asked. Pharah glanced down at her teammate--her friend--in her arms.

“Not good. She’ll need blood transfusions and possibly surgery--I’m not sure if any of the bullets lodged inside. Jack, can you call ahead to get the nurse omnics ready?”

“Roger that,” Soldier: 76 replied. Pharah focused on getting Angela back to base.

“Don’t worry, Angela. I’ve got you.”


	2. Recovering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela spends some time in the medbay, and Fareeha justs wants to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so technically it’s the same day as when I posted the first chapter, but I posted the first at 1 am and now it’s 9 pm so it’s almost been a whole day right

When the team made it back to base, Fareeha rushed Angela to the medical bay. Two omnics were waiting with a stretcher, and she gently laid her down, glancing one last time at her face before she was rushed away.

  
“Hey, love, she’ll be alright,” Tracer said. Fareeha hadn’t heard her come up behind her. She sighed.

  
“Yeah. I’m gonna go shower,” Fareeha said, and slumped away, pulling her helmet off as she walked. She had to stop at the garage to remove her suit, putting it on her stand. D.Va was looking over her mech a bit to one side, and she could see Reinhardt’s suit on its own stand farther down. Most of the rest of the heroes’ suits were in lockers around the room; only the big, clumsy outfits like Pharah’s raptor suit had to sit on stands in the middle of the room. It was dinged up a bit, and covered in Angela’s blood, but Fareeha decided to clean and fix her suit later, and trudged off towards her room.

  
In her room, Fareeha finished stripping, straightening up with a groan. She checked herself over; a few cuts and bruises, but nothing she couldn’t fix herself with some bandages and ice. Turning on the shower, Fareeha stepped under the warm spray, sighing heavily. She couldn’t seem to get Angela out of her mind--the way she had just been limp, dead weight in her arms, the sticky blood congealing in her fine blonde hair, the sound of her own name--her real one, Fareeha, not her call sign--whispered through the communicator, the last thing she’d heard Angela say.

  
Fareeha considered Angela her friend, and a good one at that, and the thought of her in pain made her heart hurt. She tried not to think about how she’d been harboring a crush on the doctor for months, tried not to wonder if she was too late to tell her how she felt.

  
_No, don’t be stupid, she’s fine,_ she thought to herself, shampooing the blood and sweat out of her thick hair. As she rinsed it out, her thoughts kept looping around to Angela, and she decided to go see her after she was done.

  
Once she was clean and dry, Fareeha opened the medicine cabinet above the sink and took out the gauze and tape she kept stashed there, bandaging a cut on her forearm that was still bleeding sluggishly and a burn on the side of her neck. She finished and got dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, tied on some boots, and left for the med bay.

  
On the way, Fareeha passed the mess hall, where Hana, Jack, Lena, and Jesse--it was hard to think of them as their call signs now that they were back in civilian clothes--were all lounged together, going over their mission and snacking. Lucio had joined them, and some other agents were scattered around the room, relaxing between missions. She paused to say hi, and grabbed an apple to munch on.

  
“Hey, Fareeha, you going to see Angela?” Lena asked brightly, smiling.

“Yeah. Have any of you heard anything?”

  
“No news is good news,” Jack said as the others all shook their heads.

  
“I’m sure she’s just fine,” Jesse added, tipping back his trademark hat. “Don’t you go worryin’ your pretty lil head about it, darlin.”

  
“Enough with the cowboy talk, jeez,” Hana rolled her eyes, smacking Jesse and leaving Dorito cheese dust on his shoulder.

  
“Hey, easy with that shit!” Jesse scowled, swiping at his flannel. “This’s my favorite shirt.”

  
“I’m afraid it’s on there forever, love,” Lena shook her head, eyeing the orange smear. “Trust me.”

  
“She’s already ruined at least half a dozen of mine,” Lucio added with a smile.

  
Fareeha allowed herself to smile at their familiar bickering, letting it ease her worry some. Waving, she excused herself and continued down the hall, eating her apple without really tasting it.

  
When she got to the medbay corridor, she saw a little cleaning omnic whirring along the floor, cleaning up a trail of blood that Fareeha realized must be Angela’s, probably smeared by her own boots. Her good mood vanished along with her appetite, and she threw the rest of the apple in the trash on her way in.

  
For an operation as dangerous and widespread as Overwatch, one might expect the medbay to be a bit grander than reality. As it was, it was comprised of only three rooms; the waiting room, the examination room, and the recovery room that held two beds. Angela was usually the only human that worked there, the rest of the meager staff being omnics.

  
“Where’s Angela?” Fareeha asked the receptionist omnic, listening to the whirs and clicks as it thought. This omnic was really no more than a humanoid-shaped computer, not at all like fully functioning AI’s like Zenyatta, and when it replied, it had a flat, toneless voice.

  
“She has just been moved to the recovery wing. She will be waking shortly.”

  
Fareeha thanked it, a habit from her soldier days, and entered the recovery room. Angela was in the far bed, under the lone window, and Fareeha hurried to her side, sinking into the uncomfortable folding chair next to her bed.

  
Angela looked small, pale, and weak, lying still under a sterile white sheet. She had on a plain white gown, and her hair was held up in a hairnet--a good thing, too, for it was still caked in gore and dirt. They’d wiped some of the blood from her skin, but not all, probably more concerned with getting her stable than her state of cleanliness. One IV fed a bag of blood into her arm, and another dripped saline. A small device over her chest monitored her heart rate and breathing.

  
“Oh, Angela,” Fareeha said softly, reaching out and gently taking hold of her hand. On a whim, she raised it to her lips, brushing a kiss over her knuckles, then returned it to the bed, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles over the back of her hand. Angela’s eyes flickered under her lids.

  
“Dr. Ziegler will be released once the last unit of blood has been administered and she has woken. She will be allowed to return to duty in one week.” An omnic nurse had appeared behind Fareeha. “She will need to be monitored carefully over the next twenty-four hours. Are you to be watching her?”

  
“Oh, um…” Fareeha stalled awkwardly, looking over at the omnic. She hadn’t expected Angela to need care once she left the medbay… before she quite knew it, Fareeha was nodding. “Yes, I’ll take care of her.”

  
“Good. She will be ready for discharge in approximately one hour.”

  
_Thank the heavens for modern medicine,_ Fareeha thought, turning back to Angela. Already, she seemed to be stirring, and a minute later, her blue eyes cracked open.

  
“Angela?” Fareeha murmured, leaning forward. “Can you hear me?”

  
“Hmnh…” Angela groaned, grimacing. Fareeha held her hand a bit tighter, watching as her friend slowly woke up.

  
“Hey,” Fareeha smiled as Angela finally focused on her face.

  
“What...what happened?” Angela croaked, taking in her surroundings. She tried to sit up, only to fall back down with a cry of pain.

  
“Woah, stay still,” Fareeha said, laying a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. “You’re in the recovery room. You were shot. What can you remember?”

  
Angela took a few deep breaths, her face pale, and looked down at their entwined hands. A faint blush spread blotchily over her cheeks, bringing some life back to her haggard face.

  
“Sombra...she tricked me. Hacked my locator,” Angela recalled, sighing. Her free hand gingerly came to rest over her stomach. “I thought I was heading towards you. She ambushed me...I remember the pain. And you…your voice is the last thing I remember.”

  
“I found you,” Fareeha said. Her brow knitted at the memory. “I was afraid...I wasn’t sure I got there in time.”

  
“You saved my life,” Angela looked up at her. “Thank you.”

  
“I--um. You’re welcome,” Fareeha coughed, feeling her cheeks heat up. She thanked her dark complexion for hiding her blush. “You save mine all the time.”

  
“Yes, but...still. Thank you,” Angela murmured, and Fareeha smiled slightly. She was sure they were thinking the same thing; when Angela saved Fareeha, it was her job, and her staff made it easy. What Fareeha has done was different. More potent, somehow. For a moment, they were quiet, Fareeha absently rubbing her thumb over Angela’s knuckles.

  
“How are you feeling? The omnic said you’d be discharged once you finish the unit of blood,” Fareeha asked, changing topic. Angela grimaced, trying again to sit up.

  
“Sore. Dirty,” Angela answered as Fareeha helped her to slowly lever herself into a sitting position. “I’m sure I’ll feel better after a shower.”

  
“I can imagine,” Fareeha grinned a bit, happy to see Angela able to sit of her own free will. “Are you thirsty? I can get you some water.”

  
“Water would be great,” Angela said with a grateful smile. Fareeha nodded and stood up, heading back to the lounge to grab a bottle.  
When Fareeha came back, Angela was arguing passionately with an omnic, a wheelchair in between the two.

  
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Angela insisted, crossing her arms.

  
“It is strongly recommended that you take caution with your movements, Dr. Ziegler,” the omnic replied.

  
“I’m not using it.” Fareeha came up to the bed, handing Angela the bottle of water, and sat down.

  
“It is necessary.”

  
“No,” Angela nearly growled. Fareeha sighed; Angela was as stubborn as a mule and surprisingly bad at taking care of herself. The omnic was fighting a losing battle.

  
“Listen, it’s best to just agree with her,” Fareeha informed the omnic. “I’ll make sure she gets back to her room all right.” The omnic looked between the two women for a moment before nodding.

  
“That is satisfactory,” it said, and left the room, wheelchair in tow. Angela scowled at its retreating back and took a swig of water.

  
“Thank you,” she said to Fareeha.

  
“Sure,” Fareeha nodded, “but why don’t you want the wheelchair?”

  
“I don’t need it,” Angela replied, her chin jutting out stubbornly.

  
“Angela, you were shot like four times,” Fareeha sighed, shaking her head.

  
“I just...fine!” Angela huffed. “I don’t want the others to see me like this. To think I’m weak. They need to be able to trust me, as their doctor, and their teammate. I don’t want them to feel sorry for me.”

  
Fareeha sat and absorbed this for a moment before laying a gentle hand on Angela’s arm. Angela looked down at her hand for a second before meeting her eyes.

  
“No one would think less of you for this,” Fareeha assured her. “In fact, everyone’s pretty impressed. You were shot in the stomach at point-blank range, and you’re already up and talking. I know I’m impressed.”

  
“Thanks,” Angela murmured, her cheeks pink. “But I still don’t want a wheelchair.”

  
Fareeha smirked, shaking her head.  
“Figures.”

 

  
When Angela had finished the bottle of water, she announced that she was ready to go, and Fareeha helped her up. An omnic came in to give a final check over and remove the IVs, and then she was pronounced fit to leave, giving her a bottle of painkillers and instructions on when to take them.

  
“There should be an extra set of scrubs in that cabinet I can wear to get back to my room,” Angela said, indicating a locker in the corner. Fareeha fetched the linen scrubs and turned around while Angela got dressed. The pain made changing slow, but Fareeha was patient, and eventually Angela was ready to go.

  
“Still don’t want a wheelchair?” Fareeha checked, and was rewarded with a playful smack to the arm.

  
“Yes,” Angela said firmly. “Just walk next to me so I don’t fall.”

  
“Of course.”

  
The two walked out of the medbay and down the corridor, moving slowly. Fareeha watched Angela carefully, one hand halfway outstretched to catch her should she fall. Angela was pale and shaky, her face set in an expression of painful concentration, lips pressed tightly together and brow furrowed. Her hand trailed along the wall, seeking reassurance, and Fareeha reached out before she could stop herself, offering her elbow for support.

  
“I don’t--” Angela began, but Fareeha cut her off gently.

  
“I know you don’t need me to,” she reassured, “I want to.”

  
Angela looked up at her for a moment and nodded, cheeks turning a delicate shade of rose as she looped her arm through Fareeha’s, letting the taller woman take some of her weight.

  
As they continued their journey, they went slower and slower. Fareeha watched Angela’s face grow tighter with pain and exhaustion until she feared her friend would simply keel over. Angela looked like death, and it was all Fareeha could do to not say something, but it became too much when Angela stopped and nearly fell as she leaned heavily on her.

  
“Angela,” Fareeha began, gently holding the other woman up. Angela looked up at her, eyes dark and tired, and made a questioning noise. “Let me carry you.”

  
“That’s ridiculous,” Angela managed to mumble, trying to straighten up, only to crumple against Fareeha’s strong form.

  
“You’re in pain,” Fareeha argued softly, already supporting most of her weight. “Please, let me help.”

  
Angela seemed in no state to protest, and simply nodded. Fareeha scooped her up in her arms, bridal-style. She was so light! Even without the help of her raptor suit, Angela was like a bird in her arms, curled up against her broad chest, head resting against her shoulder. She felt Angela’s warm breath, soft against her throat, and felt herself blushing once more. Angela had one hand curled softly, tentatively, against her chest, and seemed drawn to Fareeha’s warmth; her pale skin was almost cold in comparison. She smelled like blood and disinfectant.

  
Fareeha walked quickly down the hall, eager to get Angela cleaned up and tucked into bed. When they reached her room, Angela held her palm against the scanner, and the door swung open. Fareeha stepped through, looking around with interest.

  
Angela’s room was surprisingly untidy, in sharp contrast to Fareeha’s own, who had never quite grown out of her strict military cleanliness regime. Clothes spilled from the closet, the bed was unmade, and papers were strewn haphazardly across the desk, but it still smelled lovely, like Angela; honeysuckle and cool metal.

  
“I’m sorry for the mess,” Angela murmured. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

  
“Don’t worry about it,” Fareeha assured, setting her down gently. “Do you want to shower now?”

  
“Definitely,” Angela sighed, finally pulling the dirty hairnet from her head and throwing it in the trash. She was moving slowly and stiffly, and Fareeha worried she may not be able to stand on her own for long. “Thank you for...you know.”

  
“It was my pleasure,” Fareeha smiled, sitting down on the bed. “I’ll just wait here, okay?”

  
“You don’t have to stay with me,” Angela told her, slowly moving around the room to gather a fresh set of pajamas and a clean towel. “You’ve done more than enough already.”

  
“I want to be with you,” Fareeha replied, cringing inwardly at the awkward, all-too-revealing word choice. “I mean, I want to make sure you’re okay. The omnic said you’d need someone to watch over you for now.”

  
When Fareeha looked up, Angela was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, her face red, staring at her.

  
“Oh...okay,” Angela said, blushing harder. “Thank you.”

  
“Yeah,” Fareeha said, trying not to embarrass herself further. “Just, um, holler if you need me.”

  
“Sure,” Angela agreed, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  
Fareeha flopped back on the bed with a groan.

She was so gonna make a fool of herself.


	3. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are folks it’s been a short but fun ride!

Angela peeled her clothes off slowly, trying to stifle any noise of pain so Fareeha wouldn’t worry any more than she already was. Looking in the mirror, she held back a groan at the sight of herself; pale, hair caked in blood, bags under her eyes, cheeks still red from Fareeha’s proximity and declaration of ‘wanting to be with her.’

  
_She meant she wants to help you,_ Angela told her reflection, turning on the shower. She’s just trying to be a good friend. Her mind drifted back to what Sombra had said…

  
_“Don’t tell me Amari hasn’t scooped you up yet?”_

  
No, no, Sombra had just been trying to distract her--and it’d worked, too; she had the gunshot wounds to prove it. She stepped under the warm spray, sighing as it began working to soften the congealed blood on her skin and hair. The omnics had done a good job on her; she had four angry red marks on her abdomen, but they were sealed and already starting to look more like old scars than fresh bullet wounds. The pain lancing through her torso told a different story, and she knew it’d be time for more meds soon.

  
Angela stood in the shower for a good five minutes before reaching for a bottle of shampoo--too quickly; she couldn’t stop the cry of pain as her stomach twisted in agony.

  
“Angela?” Fareeha called from her room, and she cursed. She’d pretty much rather die than admit to Fareeha that she’d hurt herself reaching for the shampoo.

  
“I’m fine!” she managed to grunt, clutching her stomach. That had hurt more than she’d anticipated. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, slower this time, and managed to get the bottle without too much trouble.

  
She encountered another obstacle when she tried to reach up to wash her hair; lifting her arms above her chest sent burning pain spiking through her abdomen whenever the muscles stretched. Another sound of pain made its way out of her throat, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist Fareeha’s help much longer.

  
“Angela, are you sure you’re alright?”

Fareeha’s voice came through the door again, and she sighed, feeling her cheeks flush and resigning herself to accepting help. She tried not to think about what was about to happen as she replied.

  
“Actually, I think I need your help,” Angela admitted, and Fareeha was in the bathroom within seconds, always the savior.

  
“What can I do?” Fareeha asked, and Angela cursed internally as she tried to figure out the least awkward way of doing this. But she was in pain, and Fareeha was simply helping a friend in need, so there shouldn’t be any embarrassment between them. Technically. That was, of course, barring the feelings she harbored for Fareeha, but that was a whole other story.

  
“I can’t wash my hair,” Angela explained, scowling at her own helplessness. “Can you help?”

  
“Of course,” Fareeha said, obviously relieved that Angela was finally accepting her help. “How should I…?”

  
“Whatever is easiest for you,” Angela said. She couldn’t help watching as Fareeha shrugged out of her top, revealing a strong, defined midsection and lovely toned arms. Absently, she wondered how she looked in comparison, and immediately wished she hadn’t; still bloody, recovering from being shot, probably pale and looking like a wet rat, she knew she was far from beautiful in that moment.

  
Fareeha stepped forward in her sweats and sports bra, taking the shampoo bottle from Angela’s hands and working some into a lather.

  
“Turn around,” Fareeha murmured, and Angela did, baring her back to the other woman. She tipped her head back and sighed as Fareeha reached into the shower, beginning to work the shampoo into her hair.

  
Angela felt herself relaxing as Fareeha’s strong fingers massaged her scalp, sending pleasurable tingles through her skin, and couldn’t help the little moan she let out. She could practically hear Fareeha’s half-embarrassed grin, and wondered distractedly when the soldier had learned how to give such a nice scalp massage.

  
It was a good few minutes later when Fareeha took her hands away and washed them off in the shower.

  
“All done,” she announced, and Angela turned to look at her before she really was aware of it. “You can rinse now.”

  
“Thank you,” Angela said, stepping back into the water. Fareeha’s upper body glistened with water, no doubt having splashed up at her while she helped her. Angela’s eyes closed as the water ran over her face.

  
Was it her imagination, or could she feel Fareeha’s gaze dart over her body before she heard the soldier move away?

  
“I’ll wait for you out here,” Fareeha told her, and Angela nodded.

  
The rest of her shower passed by quickly as she tried to process her feelings for her friend. She washed and rinsed quickly, stepping out and drying as swiftly as she could without hurting herself, and throwing on the t-shirt and shorts she’d brought with her into the bathroom. She took another painkiller with a swig of tap water.

  
She was about to brush her hair when she realized she’d be faced with the same pain as before, and instead brought the brush out to her bedroom with her. After all, both she and Fareeha had seemed to enjoy the shampoo, and she reasoned that her friend would be willing to help her again.

  
“I was just going to offer,” Fareeha smiled when Angela held out her brush. “Here, sit down.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
Angela sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress dip behind her as Fareeha settled into position. She could feel the warmth of the soldier’s body right behind her, and the curve of one leg where it pressed into her back. She relaxed as Fareeha got to work, slowly and gently untangling her blonde hair.

  
They were quiet as Fareeha brushed her hair, continuing even when the comb pulled smooth and free through her locks. She was humming something under her breath as she worked, and Angela found herself smiling, relaxing farther back into Fareeha’s embrace.

  
The painkiller was beginning to go to work, and Angela found herself drooping with fatigue. Fareeha noticed when she began nodding off, and gently pulled away, getting her to curl up under the covers.

  
Angela was suddenly struck with the fear that Fareeha would leave, and pulled her friend down behind her. She was cold and tired and her loneliness was suddenly tight and hard in her chest; she didn’t want Fareeha to go.  
“Please,” was all she said. Fareeha hummed slightly, curling up around her, and began petting her hair. Within seconds, Angela was drifting off.

  
~

  
When Angela next woke up, she was entangled with a warm body, her head on a soft chest, breath warm on her scalp. Slowly, she opened her eyes, making sure it wasn’t a dream--but no, she was curled up with Fareeha Amari, the soldier’s arms wrapped around her, her own leg thrown over both of hers. She slowly lifted her head, careful not to wake her friend, and studied her sleeping face.

  
Fareeha was softer when she was asleep, the worried lines of her brow and the tightness around her eyes relaxing. She looked different, less harsh, more reminiscent of her goofy side that she rarely showed anyone but Angela.

  
She stayed like that for a while, watching Fareeha’s eyes flicker under their lids, her full lips occasionally twitch. Angela stared at those lips, suddenly—but not for the first time—wishing she could kiss them, nearly overwhelmed at the intensity of her desire.

  
Fareeha stretched and yawned, rolling over and pulling Angela closer against her. She stiffened in surprise, and that seemed to wake Fareeha up, who suddenly scrambled to put distance between them.

  
“Shit, Angela, I’m so sorry,” Fareeha began, but Angela grabbed her, refusing to let them seperate.

  
“Don’t,” she whispered, and Fareeha froze. “Stay. Please? You’re so warm.”

  
“...of course I’ll stay,” Fareeha murmured, carefully settling back down and wrapping strong arms back around her. Angela nuzzled into her chest, sighing, and listened to her pounding heartbeat.

  
They stayed like that for a while, long enough that Fareeha’s heartbeat returned to normal. Angela felt safe there in Fareeha’s arms, and smiled.

  
“I...I wanted to say thank you,” Angela mumbled into warm brown skin, and Fareeha shifted, making a small noise to indicate she was listening. “For everything.”

  
“You don’t have to thank me,” Fareeha replied instantly. Angela smiled, her lips curving against Fareeha’s skin; she knew her friend would say that. A pause, and then Angela sat up a little, until their faces were a few inches apart.

  
“I want to.” Angela murmured. Fareeha raised one eyebrow; under her palm, she could feel the soldier’s heartbeat increase. Carefully, she looked down at Fareeha’s lips, lingering her gaze there and biting her lower lip softly, broadcasting her desires. She knew Fareeha finally understood by the sharp intake of breath. She looked back up, meeting her warm brown gaze, and they searched each other’s eyes for a moment.

Fareeha stared at her, obviously waiting for her to do something.

  
“What if I wanted to say thank you in a particular way? Say, with a kiss?” Angela said, voice soft and open and feeling very vulnerable.

  
“I’d say yes, please,” Fareeha responded, and Angela smiled, leaned in, and kissed her.

  
Fareeha’s lips were warm and soft, molding to her own, and she felt a strong hand move to cup the back of her head gently. She melted against Fareeha, kissing her over and over again, smiling, heart full.

  
When they parted, it was only for breath, gazing into each other’s eyes and finding everything they wanted to see in them.

  
“I might have to thank Sombra,” Fareeha grinned, and Angela smiled back, her heart light. “I might not have been able to do that without her.”

  
“Mm,” Angela smirked, kissing her again. “What a shame that would have been.”

  
“Let me take you to dinner?” Fareeha asked, and Angela laughed again.

  
“We can do whatever you’d like,” she assured. “This is your thank-you, after all.”

  
“I think I’d like to kiss you again, then,” Fareeha sighed, eyes soft.

  
“I think I’d like to, too.” Mouths met again, smiles melting together, and Angela pulled back enough to continue, “And I think I’d like dinner sometime, as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im sorry this is maybe kinda awkward, I’m so bad at writing dialogue. Also Im sorry I’m so bad at slow burn this is probably the shortest fic tagged with those words that you’ll ever see lmao


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